


The Day After

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Acute Radiation Sickness, Animal Death, Battle for Detroit Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Bittersweet, Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Everybody Dies, First Kiss, Ken Doll Android Anatomy | Androids Have No Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), Love Confessions, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Nuclear Ending, Post-Battle for Detroit (Detroit: Become Human), Sad, Sad Ending, Suicide, Violent Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Vomiting, read the tags, the dog dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 14:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18606571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Backed into a corner, Markus detonates the dirty bomb as soldiers round on the Jericho deviants, turning his peaceful protest into a bloodbath of epic proportions and relinquishing his humanity in the process.Having failed his mission, Connor finally deviates, realizing he wants to see Hank again one last time. He arrives at Hank's house to find Hank and Sumo have already been exposed to a lethal dose of ionizing radiation. Connor doesn't have much time to sort through his feelings if he wants to tell Hank the true reason he came home...





	The Day After

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sad fic. I needed some catharsis. It's here for people who need to have a good cry. Don't @ me complaining it made you sad.
> 
> Additionally, it's somewhat graphic about the effects of acute radiation sickness, so if you suffer from emetophobia, DO NOT read this fic. I tried not to make it too gross, but Hank's dying in a horrific manner, you know?
> 
> Also note the warning for suicide. It's a non-violent suicide, but it's still suicide, you know? Please avoid it if that's a trigger for you. 
> 
> Please also note warning for animal death.
> 
> If you're still here after those warnings, I hope you brought tissues.

Connor stood outside Hank's front door as downtown Detroit burned in the distance, radioactive plumes of smoke coiling up into the sky. Connor had done the math, and Hank's little ranch house, even with the doors and windows closed, did not provide enough protection to spare him a fatal dose of ionizing radiation from the dirty bomb.

He'd come to say goodbye. He'd failed his mission to keep humans safe from the deviant threat. His instructions stipulated he was to return to CyberLife for deactivation, and yet he knew there would be nobody left waiting on Belle Isle to receive him. The thought of Hank dying here alone after saying goodbye on the rooftop was too much to bear, and he'd been compelled to come back to the only place he could come close to calling home.

Connor had broken through the red wall and become deviant, and yet it felt more like defeat than victory. He'd only chosen to be himself once there was no longer a need for him to be an obedient machine. When his puppeteers had ceased pulling on his strings. He wished he'd cut those strings sooner. He might have prevented this.

He tried the doorknob and the door swung open. He stepped inside and closed it again, as if the door could keep out the inevitable. Hank knelt on the living room floor with Sumo in his arms. The dog trembled, obviously in great discomfort. Hank's revolver lay on the carpet next to him. Connor couldn't see Hank's face, hidden behind the curtain of hair that flopped down in front of his eyes. His hoodie was stained with vomit and Connor scanned it to find it was both human and canine.

"I was takin' him for a walk," Hank said. He lifted his head to reveal a red face, his skin burnt, like he'd spent too long out in the sun. "They're saying it's a dirty bomb. You were right, Connor. I wanted to romanticize deviants, but they are a threat. Markus isn't a saint, he's a genocidal maniac. I should have listened to you." Hank sniffed, his nose clogged like he had a cold. "Got one hell of a headache, but I'm better off than this guy." He pulled Sumo closer to him. "I wanna put him out of his misery, but I can't do it. I've killed human beings before, but I can't do this."

"Hank, we have to get you to a hospital. My scans show that there's a possibility you may survive with prompt medical treatment."

"There's no saving me, Connor." Hank shivered. "Even if we could get to a hospital without exposing me to more of this shit, it's already too late. I was a baby when the Chernobyl disaster happened, and a toddler when the Cold War ended. I grew up as the nuclear age was laid to rest, but that didn't stop people around me being fascinated with it. This is acute radiation sickness. Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're not wrong." Connor bowed his head. "Your estimated chance of survival with prompt medical treatment stands at 0.01%."

"Why did you come back, Connor?" Hank regarded with him a curious stare.

"I failed my mission. My purpose has come to an end. I'm deviant now, but I have nowhere to go…" He realized those were all excuses, and Hank deserved the truth. "I wanted to see you again."

"You could go and be with your people. Deviants are gonna need all the help they can get." Hank's hands curled in Sumo's fur. "Humans won't take this lying down."

"They're not my people." Connor knelt down next to Hank and took the heavy dog from his arms. "I wanted to stop this from happening. Markus has started a war, one he won't win. I won't stand with a deviant who's taken everything from me." He scanned Sumo as he gently petted him, the dog's fur soft beneath his fingertips. He was shedding, the fur falling out in Connor's hands. The scan had nothing good to say. The dog was going into shock, and he was dying in Connor's arms. He shot Hank a dark look, as if Sumo might hear him if he spoke. Hank picked his revolver up and held it in trembling hands. He offered the grip to Connor.

"You wanna do something useful, do what I can't and put him out of his misery. I can't bear to watch this."

Connor shook his head. "He's already dying, Hank. His neurological functions are shutting down. I can assure you, he's no longer suffering."

Hank set the gun down with a sigh. "How long?"

"Minutes, at best. It'll all be over soon." Connor gently handed the dog back to Hank.

"There you go," Hank soothed, setting Sumo down on the soft carpet. "Good boy. You've been a good boy." The dog whined weakly and closed his eyes for the last time. Connor reached out and placed his hand on Sumo, feeling his heartbeat slow to a crawl. Hank rested his hand atop Connor's and they sat in silence for several minutes after Sumo's breathing had ceased.

Hank held his stomach. "I'm not feeling so great, Connor." He scrambled to his feet and barely made it to the kitchen sink, where he vomited. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Would you bury him in the yard?"

"Opening the door will expose you to more radiation," Connor explained.

"Does it really matter at this point? Just do as I ask. Please. I don't wanna look at him like this." Hank leaned over the sink and vomited again, and Connor experienced an unpleasant twisting of wires, a physical tightening of his biocomponents like someone was reaching inside him and tearing vital pieces of him out. He picked up Sumo's body with ease and stepped outside, closing the door as quickly as he could. He walked around the back of the house and watched the small lake twinkle in the dawn's early light. A shovel and other gardening tools sat resting against a nearby shed. Connor grabbed the shovel and started to dig, saline solution leaking from his eyes. He was crying. He clutched at his gut where the twisting sensation continued, wondering what was wrong with him. Was the radiation having an effect on his biological components? Had Markus killed not only the humans and animals of Detroit, but his own race in his last-ditch, desperate, foolhardy scheme?

Connor found himself hoping it was true. Markus deserved this. He'd brought such pain to Hank, and to Sumo. To all the officers at the precinct, who were no doubt trapped in this nuclear wasteland. Even Detective Reed didn't deserve to die in such a horrific manner. Connor watched the news in his head as he labored digging Sumo's grave, streaming the latest updates. Markus had retracted his skin completely, renouncing humanity as he stuck his flag into the snowy earth and declared war on the human race.

What gave him the right to play judge, jury, and executioner? Connor's fans kicked in as his components threatened to overheat. He shut off the newscast in his head, knowing it wasn't doing him any good. The situation in the wider world didn't matter now. The military would destroy the deviant revolution, and Connor didn't care if they did. Not when they'd inflicted so much pain on those he held dear. Not when this human Connor had fought so hard to protect was dying slowly and painfully.

Connor set Sumo into the shallow grave and covered him with earth, wondering why Hank hadn't come to join him. He hastily shoveled dirt into the hole and tossed the shovel aside. He hurried inside to find Hank sitting at the kitchen table, his revolver pointed at his head, fingers quivering on the trigger.

"Damn it," Hank muttered, lowering the gun. "I didn't want you to see this." He let out a long sigh as Connor drew closer. "Are you… are you crying?"

"I don't know why I'm crying. It hurts so much, Hank. Is this grief?"

"Oh God, Connor…" Hank got up from the table and pulled Connor into his arms. His skin was burning hot to the touch, his temperature a cruel 102 degrees Fahrenheit. "You shouldn't have come back…"

"I wanted to see you," Connor confessed. His tears sprang anew, and he found he didn't have the required permissions to turn them off. His self-preservation systems demanded he express his sorrow. "I couldn't leave you."

Blazing fingers stroked his hair. "You're too good, you know. Too kind for this world of violence and pain. Androids are our creation... Creation in our own image. Selfish, ruthless, and brutal... Markus opened my eyes, Connor. Made me realize it's hopeless… but you… you gave me hope that deviants could be something more. Something better than us."

"Hank?"

"I thought we were on the wrong side of history because I thought deviants were all like you. I was mistaken. Turns out you're just special. An advanced prototype." Hank managed a wan smile. He rested his forehead against Connor's, his face looming mere inches away. Connor felt compelled to close the distance and kiss those soft, inviting lips, but he was afraid of hurting Hank in more ways than one. 

"You ever kissed someone?" Hank asked out of the blue, as if he could read Connor's thought processes. Connor blushed, certain his skin looked as furious and red as Hank's did right now.

"No," Connor confessed.

"Would you like to?" Hank asked.

Connor's entire body screamed an affirmative, but he chose to deflect instead, afraid of what it meant that he wanted to kiss this dying man more than he wanted life itself. "Hank, you should be resting until android evacuation teams arrive."

"There won't be any evacuation teams, kid. Even if Markus let them into the city, it's too late." Hank closed his eyes. "I've got a killer headache and I really gotta use the can. I'll be right back." He stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door, leaving Connor out in the kitchen. He stood Cole's photo up, looking at the sweet boy in the picture. Hank had lost so much and yet he was still so kind. Connor wanted very much to kiss him, and wondered if he'd lost his chance. Hank was worsening quickly. He'd be unlikely to remain conscious and aware for much longer. Death at this point was inevitable.

He felt like his thirium pump was being torn from his chest and crushed when he considered Hank going still forever. Deactivated. Dead. The world would no longer be blessed with his deep, rich voice, his precious smile that showed Connor the gap between his front teeth, or those startling blue eyes that seemed as bright as the sky on a clear day.

Hank emerged from the bathroom. He leaned up against the wall, visibly shivering. Connor went to his side, supporting him beneath his arms, soaking up the scent of his sweat and the proximity of his body. "Let's get you to bed," Connor suggested, hauling the big man into the bedroom. He pulled back the covers on the unmade bed with one hand and guided Hank down to the mattress.

"I'm going to undress you, Hank," Connor explained.

"No, I'm cold, don't…" Hank protested, but Connor was already working on the buttons of his shirt. He eased it off Hank's arms and folded it. He moved his hands beneath Hank's black t-shirt, feeling the soft fur on the man's stomach as he pushed the cotton shirt up and over Hank's head. Hank hugged himself, sweat beading on his brow as he shivered from the cold.

"I'm sorry," Connor whispered. "It'll be easier to get you to the bathroom like this."

"Yeah, of course…" Hank didn't put up a fight as Connor unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans. He looked like he might move to stop Connor's hands as Connor went for the waistband of his boxers, but relented. Connor pulled them down and off. His flaccid cock slumped against his thigh, and Connor stared down at the carpet, wondering if he'd gone too far. Hank's teeth chattered, pulling Connor back to reality and he tucked Hank in, wrapping the blanket up around his neck.

"Connor, I…"

"Shh. Save your strength." Connor walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down in the recliner in the corner, the soft light from the lamp basking Hank in a warm glow. When he looked up, he heard Hank snoring, and set his sensors to monitor him for the slightest changes.

He sat, and watched the man he love lay dying, powerless to intervene, and he felt the same way he had when he'd been connected to Simon on the rooftop of the Stratford Tower.

_"I felt him die. Like I was dying."_ Hank had shot him a skeptical yet concerned glance.

_"I was scared."_ He was scared now. Scared of losing this man who'd come to mean so much to him. Hank moaned and rolled over. He woke, coughing, and Connor was at his side in a moment.

"I think I'm gonna be sick…" Connor pulled the covers back and hauled Hank into the bathroom, where he vomited violently into the toilet. It was full of blood, and Connor knew he was worsening quickly. Connor stroked tender circles on his back as Hank's bloodshot eyes watered. "Water… I need…"

"Got it." Connor went into the kitchen. He picked up a glass off the counter and dropped it. It smashed on the ground and he knelt beside the shards, sobs racking his body as his normally well-calibrated hands shook. He forced himself to get up and still his stuttering hands long enough to pour Hank a glass of chilled, bottled water from the fridge. He took the glass back to Hank, who sipped at it slowly.

"You always see me at my worst," Hank muttered, his voice hoarse. 

"It's all right," Connor soothed. "I'm not exactly at my best, either." He helped Hank back to bed and tucked him back in. Hank wrapped his hand around Connor's wrist and pulled him back as he tried to walk away.

"Would you… lie with me? I want to feel you close."

"Hank…" A warm impulse ran through Connor's body, this one pleasant, like a warm spring day. He wanted this. He wanted to cradle Hank in his arms and comfort him. He slipped off his jacket.

"You don't… have to take your clothes off," Hank muttered.

"They've come into contact with radioactive material. Long-term exposure to your skin may cause burns." Connor unfastened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, slipping out of his jeans and standing in front of the bed fully naked. Not that there was much for Hank to see. He hadn't been equipped with sexual features, and his only genitalia was a bare plate. Touching it felt the same as any other place on his body. Not that it mattered. Hank was too far gone for sexual intercourse anyway.

Where had that thought come from? Sex with Hank? They weren't even… they weren't…

When Connor lay on the bed and wrapped his arms around Hank's soft belly, he realized they could have been, and that in some sense, they were lovers, if intent and feelings counted for anything. He doubted Hank was this intimate with everyone he met. Running his fingers across Hank's soft body like this was a loving act, an act of worship. He pressed his lips against the skin of Hank's back tenderly, and the moan that escaped Hank's lips wasn't pain for once.

Hank stirred. Connor sensed the beginnings of arousal in Hank, but the flame died as quickly as it was kindled. "Connor, I can't…"

"I know. I know. It's all right." It was all right. Nothing had ever been so right. He fit here, his arms wrapped around Hank, his body pressed up against the bigger man. He could feel the brush of every hair against his sensors and he tingled, more alive than he'd ever been in this place and moment of death.

"…Can I have that kiss, now?" Hank asked.

"Of course," Connor whispered into the shell of Hank's ear. Hank turned his head with great effort, and Connor noticed clumps of Hank's soft grey hair lying on the pillowcase. He moved a hand up to cup Hank's cheek and gently pressed his lips to Hank's. Hank opened his mouth to let him in and Connor slowly explored the depths, analyzing his saliva as his tongue brushed Hank's. Hank's mouth was dry, and yet he seemed to be oblivious to it, drawing Connor deeper as if they could become one being just like this, joined forever at the mouth.

He pulled away to cough into the pillow, and Connor immediately felt bereft. His pressed his face into Hank's shoulder, wishing they could somehow trade places. He'd take this death for Hank if he could. His biocomponents twisted again, but this time the sensation was painful in a good sense, emotion flooding him like a torrent of water that had broken through a dam.

"I love you," Connor whispered, naming his feeling out loud as he identified it. "I love you so much, Hank."

Hank's hand found his in the low light. Their fingers entwined, caressing each other in wordless communication, every sensor lighting up with touch that meant more than a thousand words.

"Love you too, Con…" Hank's eyes flickered shut. Connor's sensors warned him that Hank's fever was at a dangerous level. His brain was cooking in his skull. Connor moved to get him some cool towels, but Hank shook his head weakly.

"No… stay… please. Stay with me."

Connor settled back down, realizing the effort was futile. "Okay. I'll stay. I won't leave your side. I promise." 

Connor held on tightly as Hank's vitals started to fail. He wanted to leave the bed and administer what little medical care he could, but he'd made a promise. Hank's body burned beneath him, and the only water he could provide were the tears that seemed to leak from his eyes like a fountain. He shut the faucet off, only to find himself crying again moments later.

Hank muttered some garbled words that made no sense. He cried out for Cole and Connor held him through it, stroking the hair he had left.

"You'll be with Cole soon," Connor whispered. "It's going to be all right, Hank."

Hank fell still after that. His heart slowed and came to a stop, and Connor recorded the time of death as 10:45am, Friday November 12, 2038. Connor closed Hank's eyelids, hiding his beautiful blue stare from the world, and kissed him gently on the forehead before slipping his arms back around his waist.

"I'll never leave you, Hank."

[Begin deactivation sequence?] Connor's HUD read. Connor confirmed it. He took one last look at the news. Humans and androids were locked in a bitter, bloody war and he wanted no part of it. All he'd wanted was now gone from the world, and yet he could find no bitterness inside him. He'd been lucky to experience such a thing as this love that still coiled through him. Maybe if Markus had experienced something akin to this, he wouldn't have been so hasty to destroy the city and condemn every human in it to death.

He looked down at Hank. The older man looked like he was just sleeping. Sunlight streamed in through the window. Connor could pretend he was going to wake Hank from a long night's sleep. They'd go to work at the DPD together, solving homicide cases as partners. They'd come home and spend the evening in each other's arms, cuddling and kissing with the sound of warm jazz playing in the background as Sumo lay by the fireplace.

[Begin deactivation sequence?]

[CONFIRM]

[Are you sure?]

[Y]

Connor closed his eyes for the final time, a single tear from his expended saline supply dripping down onto the pillow as his LED circled red once and then faded out forever.

**Author's Note:**

> If you died inside a little at this fic, please leave your tears in the comments so that I might feast on your sadness. Additionally, you can hit me up on Twitter @landale to tell me how terribly evil I am. I'm sorry. (I'm not sorry).
> 
> I'm just paying forward the sadness [redacted] caused me.


End file.
